At her command....

She wasn't used to giving instructions. 
She took them
Obeyed them
Carried them out
and waited for more.
So I asked her....
May I have permission Ma'm?
Permission for what?
I want to cum.
OK.
No, you have to tell me to.
oooohhhh.
(a long pause in the DM conversation, 2 emails got written and lunch plans were made)
Use baby oil.
For what?
you know.
No, i don't.  Tell me.
For when you.....
When I what?
Aaagh, I'm no good at this.  He never lets me tell him anything.
Anything?
I'm only allowed to ask what he needs.
Tragic
I know
Selfish
I know.
Tell me.
(lunch plans were changed, reservations cancelled and made again, a PowerPoint drafted)
I want you to cum for me using baby oil.
OK, I want to be in the NBA.  Tell me.
Cum for me
How
WHAT!!  Ugh.
(a phone call, restroom, 2 small chocolates and a hand full of nuts)
My DM light blinks.
You are to cum for me before bed, use baby oil, stroke slowly, and cum hard.
At your command
(a pause)
May I?  
When?
Now, please.
You may

She reported later that she gushed for the first time in months and had to do laundry before her husband came home with the boys.

I am constantly amazed at how many men miss the erotic potential of their women.

I was able to carry out her commands late that night as the family slept.
When we chatted the next day, she had to do even more laundry.

Thank you Mistress.
 

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FFF - Black & White Dichotomies

Key Word - "Dichotomy" and/or "Waiting"
Word Limit - 275 for each picture
Extra Credit - Get one other blogger to join in
Bonus Words - 
25 for each orgasm you help someone else have between now and Friday morning.

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I walked into the room just outside the chapel and she was there, blindfolded as I had instructed, breathing heavily with a small whimper in her throat. The wedding was to begin in one hour, and I promised her husband that she would be on time for the ceremony.  Her wedding dress hung off to the side, a beautiful creation of beaded silk, ready to slip over her head before walking into the chapel.

My heels make crisp clicks as I walked across the hardwood floor, her perfume filled the air and I inhaled the scent of beauty. I had been waiting for this day for many years. I had watched her grow up, blossoming from an energetic tomboy into a towering beauty.  Her chest was bound tightly by the corset, her legs spread widely, wantonly, perhaps in anticipation of her wedding night.  I doubt it very much that white was an appropriate color for her. Boys talk, you know, but who was I to spoil the deception on her most important day?

“Are you ready to get married my dear?”

She nodded her head.

“Will you be faithful to him?”

She hesitated then nodded again.

She flinched as she heard my belt buckle open in the zipper on my trousers slide down. Her knees closed and then opened again, even wider, and she licked her lips and breathed deeply. I stepped closer.

“Are you ready for the final sacrament of marriage?”

“Yes Monsignor.”

She opened her mouth and extended her tongue, tipping her head back in the posture of a devoted supplicant. 

I hesitated. 

With her eyes covered she searched blindly, waiting for the living dichotomy of God made flesh. 

I intoned my blessing as the guests waited in the chapel, and left a white wafer on her tongue. (300)

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I waited. 

I protested, but it was a lie. 

I loved waiting.

The white sand under the chair shifted and forced me to use my legs to balance lest I fall from my chair, ruining my dress and earning his punishment.    

I loved waiting, my hands bound behind me, my position on the chair precarious.  It was all a game, a deliciously painful game, but I smiled through the blindfold, hoping beyond hope that he was watching my struggles.

Most likely he was nowhere near me.  Most likely it would be Raul or Thomas who would put their hands on my shoulder and slide them inside my corset.  The other would be holding the camera, naked, hard, such a silly game.  They were both nervous handling the Cappo’s mistress so shamefully, but orders were orders and their bodies inevitably gave their boss the show they wanted and the climax I craved.

But it was the waiting.  I felt the hard leather seat cover between my legs and tried to grind softly against it.  The gusset of my panties was soaked in anticipation.  If Thomas only knew how much I wanted is rough hands on my delicate flesh, or if Raul knew what his cock did to my insides, if they only knew we would not wait, so I did not tell them, because I loved the waiting.

My hands were bound, my breasts encased in bone and silk, yet my body was ready and eager to be used.  My girlfriend couldn’t understand the dichotomy of freedom in servitude, but as my master’s whore, I was under his command, but given total freedom to enjoy the gifts he gave me, and endless variety of pleasures, the strong hands of his henchmen, and orgasms beyond number.

I was free, and I waited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 
While I loved both pictures, and liked the idea of combining them for this week's challenge, it was more difficult that I anticipated to come up with a story.  I wanted to time them together, but it didn't work.  I thought about making them sisters, or lovers, or blah blah, blah, it just didn't work.  This afternoon (Thursday) as I saw my day slipping away and my writing time vanishing,  thought of the church angle for the bride-to-be.  It's easy to make fun of the clergy these days, but they've earned it in my view.  Of course, to be true to the storyline, I'd have made the bride an 11 year old boy, but that's beside the point.  I loved the idea that, in the end, she wanted the sacrament he offered as much as he wanted to give it.  (Yes, that's a "victim blaming scenario", I get it, but well, it's fiction, so suck it.)

The woman in black looked so much happier.  I didn't realize until really looking at the picture, in the right light, that her chair was on sand.  Perhaps i need a new monitor, or glasses.  She looked like her anticipation was happy, almost joyful.  The woman white, her head turned to the side, appears to be waiting for a blow, a slap, and her position is more guarded.

this is all so much blather.  I hope you enjoyed reading this week, and more, I hope you take a few minutes and write a Flash Fiction of your own!!!

Advizor

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FFF 12-21-12 - Christmas Celebrations!

Merry Christmas My FFFFFs
(Fellow Flash Fiction Friday Fanatics)

It's too late now, but I guess we should have gone for the "End of the World" theme to celebrate the Mayan Calendar ending sometime this afternoon.  But, I'm in more of a Christmas mood than a "sell my possessions and sit on the mountain top" kind of mood.

I had fun writing all three of these.  I hope you did too.  I'm putting the links up top this week because my #3 is written in verse, it's too long, and would push your wonderful names to far down the page to ever see the light of day.   And remember, it's never to late to add your entry!!  Hours, Days, Weeks later, if the mood strikes, WRITE!! 

This weeks' challenge was:

Prompt Word = Unexpected
Word Count = 200 (same as my Christmas budget)
Extra Credit = Use more than one picture... 

And here are all the wonderful players!!



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold wind swirled around the pillars of the train station and down the back of his coat. His bare fingers, wrapped around the briefcase handle, froze and he cursed himself for losing his gloves. He walked home in the dark, the severance notice in his pocket, and the overdrawn credit cards in his wallet. The snow crunched underneath his thin soled shoes and the gray slush slid between his sock and the cheap leather and he felt it pool under his instep, creating a cold puddle that chilled his soul. The layoff had not been completely unexpected, but the timing could not have been worse. What kind of cold-hearted bastards layoff 200 people the Monday before Christmas?

He thought about his wife, the disappointment that would drip from every word, the look in her eyes, and the tone in her body language. He knew a different job would come along soon, but the attitude would always be the same.

He thought about his wife as he trudged up the stairs to the four-story walk-up, and he started to smile. Home could wait, bad news could wait, he had a tree to decorate and an unwrapped gift waiting for him. (200/200)

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She stood tall, trying to keep her back straight in the weight off her wrists as she hummed a little Christmas song that she learned as a child. She loved Christmas time, the tinsel, the bows, the short little plaid skirts and the nipple clamps that twinkled in the snow. She giggled to herself as she shifted her weight on her high-heeled shoes. She stood quietly waiting, doing what he had commanded her to do, to stand there and be pretty. 

She heard the door open downstairs and her giggle changed to a sigh. She clenched inside, the anticipation was the most delicious part, and her arousal, the intensity of her arousal, was always a bit unexpected. She heard his voice at the bottom of the landing, and clenched again and allowed a small orgasm to tremble through her pelvis, dance around the small of her back, race up her spine, wrap around her chest making her nipples stand erect and escape out through her throat with a wispy gasp.

He invited them all to come upstairs.  She looked around the room and caught the eyes of the other decorations, shared a smile, then stood tall. Yes, she loved Christmas. (200/200)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Twas the night before Christmas

Alone in the house

Nothing was stirring

She sat like a mouse.

The man in the suit

Just stood there and stared.

As his sweet little something

Knealt and prepared.

The riding crop glistened

And his boots were so black

She hoped on her hiney

That crop he would crack.

She added the collar

To her Christmas list

And now the long chain

Was held in his fist.

She quivered and groaned

While the fire was merry

She hoped as a gift

He’d take her sweet cherry.

Naughty or nice?

He said with a wink,

The forced her to crawl

And make him a drink.

He slurped down the eggnog

The disgusting old drink

But of his thick jism,

It did make her think.

Was Ms. Clause serviced

While riding the sled?

Or did he have elves

For giving him head.

She hoped he would give her

Wrists tied in a bow

Then blowing his load

Up the chimney he’d go.

He tugged on the chain

Made her whimper and moan

“Don’t make horny Santa,

Do Christmas alone”

She crawled to his lap

But his pants were too tight

“If we can’t get them off,

It will be a long night.

She giggled and fiddled

With his big silver buckle

While he reached down between

And rubbed with a knuckle.

“Oh my, you are wet,

You really are ready.

But he was a noodle,

Like real bad spaghetti.

Come on Dear old Santa

Don’t let it be so

Then she had an idea,

She’d give it a go.

The collar was tight

On the old fat man’s neck

But when they were done

The place was a wreck.

She love the tall boots

And the crop in her hand

Who would have thought

That she’d be the man.

She whipped him

And beat him

And called him

By name

And when she abused him

He finally came.

She unleashed the collar

To his team gave a whistle

And she realized his dick

Tasted something like gristle.

Christmas for her

Was never the same

And when she was horny

She called out his name.

Beware what you wish for.

But it’s nice to be naughty

‘Specially when you

Are the Christmas tale hottie.

 



x

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